Story Of My Life
by WhoKilledBambi
Summary: Naomi, first year university student reading politics has moved in with her best friend Effy. A night out with Effy to a strange club proves itself rewarding as Naomi and Effy meet a local punk band ready to rock and to party. A journey featuring Naomi and Emily and how some fantastic music brings them together.
1. Chapter 1

Naomi's POV

Room 308. We've been living here for less than two weeks and it still surprises me to see us on our own. I put my key in the lock and push the handle, opening the door. The flat is surprisingly bigger than I had expected we could afford and I make my way into the living room that I'm surprised we have. Lying in the cream coloured room are some boxes that we've both been too lazy to move, that belong to my flatmate and best friend. There's a small ugly floral couch and a tv lying on one of those boxes, both of which Tony, said best friend's brother, had given us. Too cheap to buy tables, we've resorted to using some of the stronger boxes instead. Attached to the lounge are two doors, which lead to our bedrooms. On the other side of the lounge is a small kitchen with a fridge and bar along with a stovetop and black wood cupboards and shelves. And sitting at the bar table on one of the four stools is a thin girl with gorgeous long brown hair, wearing a torn dress and fishnets. She's smirking at me.

"Effy!" I blurt out, hand to my fast beating chest. She had frightened me, I had been expecting her much later, but she beat me here. Its friday and usually I finish my classes before her.

"Hey Naoms. How were your classes?" she greets me back.

"Politics was okay yeah.." I tell her. "You? Bunking class?"

"Whatever. Your mum called to tell us to come over for supper next week" she tells me.

"Fuck" I sigh. "So they're back then?"

"Your mum is lovely. Much better than mine." She counters her face losing its smirk. I place my bag on the ugly couch and smile back at her. My mum and new step dad had recently gone off on vacation to Ireland together and apparently gotten back today. Mum always loved to invite me and Effy over and just meddle with out lives.

"Drink?" she offers.

"Isn't it a bit early to be drinking?" I scoff back. Its about 3 or 4 in the afternoon.

"Nah. Second week of uni, its celebrating," she says. I'm pretty sure she's made it up on the spot but whatever. I just nod and sit next to her on one of the tacky, orange cushiony stools.

"Whats your poison then?" I ask her, referring to the bottle of alcohol.

"Peach schnapps and vodka." She explains while grabbing a mug from the counter. She mixes me a drink, pouring from the clear bottle and hands the white mug over. "It tasted better with apple juice but we're out." As if to prove her point, she shakes the empty bottle of apple juice.

I take a minute to observe the _World's Best Dad _mug she's given me and the liquid inside. It smells like alcohol, and I take a risky chug.

"Thanks," I say, pulling a face. It's a strange combination that would probably have been better with some fruit juice, only to lessen the burn. "We gonna get glasses anytime soon?" We'd been using these mugs since we moved in and most of them were borrowed from neighbours or parents. We've kind of skipped out on purchasing and settled on taking without asking from people we know. Its not stealing, we're just poor uni kids. Everything in the flat is like that, the tv, the plates were the ones from my childhood (they've got Lion King characters on them) and the salt and pepper shakers we take from restaurants. It saves money. And we never have to buy salt or pepper.

"Nope. Its classy," she smirks, showing off her mug which has the cheshire cat on it. Its one she _borrowed_ from our upstairs neighbour who has a bit of a cat obsession.

"Right. So, supper next week with my mum and Kieran then?" I confirm.

"Thursday." Effy nods.

"We should probably finish unpacking." I tell her, pointing to the boxes left in the lounge. We had moved in about three weeks ago, but being lazy we had only unpacked our necessities or things as we needed them.

"Fine." Effy sticks her tongue out, chugs the rest of her gross drink and gets up, picking a box with her and bringing it with her to her room.

The rooms aren't bad, kind of crowded with the double bed and wardrobe, but there's a window with a nice view of the street below us and the small cafe Effy and I visit to do coursework and drink coffee. We spend the time unpacking and moving our boxes into our rooms. By the time we're done, I'm pretty hungry and pretty exhausted. Most of my clothing had been placed into my wardrobe and my posters were randomly put up and my bedding placed on the bed. My other clothing was still in boxes and I worked at finishing those.

I make my way back to the lounge and flop down by Effy on the couch. The room is pretty empty now. The tv is now pushed against the wall still on some boxes that are probably empty now. They make for a really cheap tv table, and its almost laughable. At least our flat is more presentable now.

"I ordered chinese," she tells me as she carelessly puffs out some smoke from the cigarette in her hands.

"Thanks." I pull out a fag to join her when a knock comes from the door. She quickly pays for the food and places it on our broken coffee table. One of the legs had broken off and we replaced it with a box. It wasn't perfect but we couldn't care less.

"So what's the plan for tonight? Other than chinese?" I ask her, stuffing some noodles into my mouth.

"We're going out," Effy tells me. I usually sort of let her decide what we do because she tends to know where the best parties are. The best drugs too.

"Yeah. With some people from one of my classes." She continues, knowing I'm curious about what we have planned for tonight.

"You made friends?" I ask, stunned. "The great Effy Stonem graces the little people." I mock her.

"Fuck off. Like you're any better. And they're not friends. Just people." We both sort of suck at making friends. It might be why we're such good friends, our mutual dislike of other people. We make a good team of emotionally cold and distant people.

There's another knock and Effy gets up and the door opens to a strange girl dressed in a lolipop dress and pigtails. Her clothing looks like a seven year old's but I'm pretty sure she's our age.

"Whizzer Effy!" she greets "Bloomin heck! Your own place. I wish Mum would let me get a flat. Well I guess your mum didn't really give you a choice but its so whizzer and its like right across school. I'm so excited Effs. Uni! And I can't believe you invited me to go out. Its going to be whacker fun yeah." The girls rants smiling widly.

"Right, come in. We ordered chinese." Effy welcomes her and I move to the edge of the couch to make room for Effy and this strange girl. Effy sits back down beside me and the strange girl sits down beside her, helping herself to the bottle of vodka that was placed on the table.

"You must be Effs' roomie. You're pretty. I'm Panda. I'm reading history and philosophy. Its a blinkin dream this uni is. They were handing out donuts on campus today, did you see?" She introduces herself to me.

"Right. I'm Naomi."

"Is she coming with tonight?" Panda asks Effy, but continues without a response, "it'll be whacker loads of fun. Thomas'll be there. And there's drugs too right?" I'm a little surprised this seven-year old our age girl is so naively talking about drugs but Effy sits there, letting her rant while taking drags from her fag carelessly.

"Yeah, Panda. Naomi is coming. We'll leave after we eat." Effy decides for me, and I'm not even sure what I've been forced to agree to.

"What're you reading Naoms? Eff's in one of my classes. We have philosophy together." Panda asks me suddenly after taking a drag from Effy's cigarette. That explains where Effy met this strange girl. Her eyes light up with each drag, as if its her first time smoking and its all new, but she takes it like an experienced smoker, without coughing or anything. She combines the taste of smoke with the rice she's eating.

"Politics" I tell the strange girl. "Where're we going then?" I ask curiously.

"To celebrate. The Dead Cat." Effy explains.

"The Dead Cat?" I echo.

"It's a whacker club. With whizzer music and drugs and drinks. Katie invited us. Well she invited Effy, but Effy said I could come" Panda explains.

"Is it really a good idea?" I ask full of cynicism.

"Of course it is." Effy replies. "Now finish eating, we're leaving."

"And Katie said she could get us in," Panda explains. "Because Tommo works there. He's a blinkin dream. He's also in philosophy."

"So where is this place?" I ask her, once we finish cleaning our dinner up.

"Not too far." Effy answers. I follow her and Panda, who is excitingly jumping down the empty hall towards the stairs that lead out of our apartment complex into the dark street. Across the street is the now closed cafe and a post office along with a corner store that is still opened. At the intersection I follow Effy to the right down the pavement. We're heading the opposite way from the university. After another two turns we make it to a old brick building. The second floor of the building seems to be some music or dvd store, though it has no name or sign to describe it. The only thing that makes it seem so are the many band posters displayed in the window and the small closed sign that can be seen from down below. The steps that lead up to it are empty and the lights are off. There's a queue that goes around to the side of the building, and I'm surprised as Effy ignores the queue and goes straight to the entrance instead. The queue itself is filled with young people wearing lether jackets and dark makeup, some wearing band shirts that I don't recognize. There's a few mohawks and some bright coloured hair. Lots of spikes and patches.

The building itself is old and the sign above the door is lighted up, showing a cat. Its a play on one of those old French nightclubs, _Le Chat Noir, _but instead of _Noir _someone seems to have painted the word 'Dead' right on top and placed to matching black 'x's over its eyes. Along with those additions, is the symbol of anarchy sloppily painted in red. Huh, so its the Dead Cat then.

"Friends!" the guy at the front greets us. Unlike the patrons waiting to get in, he's not dressed in dark clothes or any sort of punk gear. He's dressed rather plainly, which sets him out. In just jeans and a blue rain jacket he seems to stand out.

I observe what we're wearing to in comparision to the general style of everyone else. Effy seems to blend in and stand out at the same time in a way that just seemed to be her style. Careless and intriguing but frightening. She doned a ripped grey dress with fishnets and dark smokey makeup that brought out her blue eyes. Panda stood out. In any company she'd stand out. I've just got my grey jumper and some shorts and converse. Nothing too fancy, but in my defence I had spent the day at school and unpacking and I had no idea where we were going.

"Tommo!" Panda greets the man back, kissing him on the cheek. "This is Naomi! She's Effy's flatmate" I smile at him, unsure what to say.

"Welcome." He opens the door for us and Effy and I walk in, leaving Panda behind to talk with the doorman.

"They dating then?" I ask Effy. She just nods. The club itself is strange. Its more of a pub with sticky tables and a small dance floor and stage. Music is playing from some speakers, and the stage is open for a band, instruments set up but no one on stage to play them. I follow Effy to the bar and she orders some shots.

"There you are Effy," someone greets us from behind. We both turn to see who, and I'm stunned. This girl is beautiful. She, like the doorman, stands out due to the style of clothing. She's got curly, dark red hair and bright red lips. She'd be adorable but what she's wearing screams sexy. A short black skirt with a tight pink shirt that shows off her breasts. And heels that give her some height. She must be short, because even with those added two inches, she's about my height.

"Hey Katie." Effy greets her, her face staying neutral even though this girl seems generally pleased to see her. "This is Naomi, my flatmate."

"Hey." I nod

"Right. Nice to meet you," this Katie says, glancing at me, before returning her gaze to Effy, "anyways, I got us a table." We follow her to a table and sit down on the red cushions. We place our drinks on the round table. Effy leaves as soon as we place our bags down and I watch as she leaves me with Katie to go off and get more shots or drugs or something.

"So Naomi," Katie asks, "you going to uni then?"

"Yeah. Reading politics. You?" I ask her.

"I work with my mum as a wedding planner but I'm taking a few uni courses too. Hows living with Effy?" she then asks.

"We get along. She's my best friend after all" I answer.

"Really? She never mentioned you. She's like strange though." She answers vaguely grinning. "I wish I could move out. Living at home sucks." The point that Effy has even spoken with this girl shocks me, so when she tells me that Effy hasn't told her about me it dosen't surprise me.

"You could always just get a flat," Effy interupts as she returns clutching three shot glasses in her hands. "Tequila." She hands us each one and we down them together.

"I don't make enough money to afford it," Katie counters, grabbing one of the shots and lemon slices.

"Yeah you do," Effy argues. Their banter is friendly, but I'm feeling a little left out. "And you wouldn't want to leave the comfort of the Fitch mansion, now would you?"

"Its hardly a mansion, Effs," the shorter girl points out, playing with the straw in her drink while glaring back at the brunette. "You've never actually seen it."

"Whatever you say Katie. So we gonna meet your sister today then?" Effy just smirks as if she won their little argument and drinks her vodka and coke.

"Yeah but she's been pissy for the last few days." Katie grumbles.

"Your fault probably." Effy answers, and again I'm out of the loop.

"Whatever. Enough Fitch family problems. Lets get drunk and find fit lads," she declares getting up without us and wandering off to talk to some guy by the bar.

"Right. So there's two of them then?" I ask worried. Katie seems very... well its hard to describe. A bitch, to be not so polite.

"Yeah. Sorry." Effy apologizes, I'm not sure what for, but I nod anyways. "she talks about herself a lot," she pauses to look back over to Katie and then to me and then to nod and grin, "and her family too. I'm sure you'd get along with her sister though. From what I've heard about her."

"What?" I stammer out. The way she examined me was just strange and a little unsettling.

"Dosen't matter."

"Have you ever actually met her sister?" I ask.

"Nope."

Effy takes another drinks and her eyes are elsewhere. I follow her line of sight to the stage where a band is setting up. There's a guy with shorter cut hair and a black tshirt that has some strange logo on it. He's got tattoos over his arms and from here I think I can see a small piercing in his ear. He's discussing something with another guy all the while setting up his guitar, both of them probably our age. The other one has curly, wild brown hair and unlike the other guy who looks threatening and wild, this one looks calm and friendly. He's got on plain jeans and a blue patterned shirt. There's another guy on the stage too, setting up his bass. He has darker skin and longer hair than the other two and he's smoking a spliff, something I'm sure he could get in trouble for inside the club.

"That's Freddie, he's fit," Katie points out when she's back, "Cook with the guitar and JJ" She says pointing them out to me. "Don't know where my stupid sister is though."

As if on cue, a girl with bright red hair in tight leather pants walks onto the stage and heads to the drum set. She's got on a tight, ripped Sex Pistols shirt and a good twenty black bracelets around her arms. Wow, and I thought Katie was beautiful, this girl was well, stunning. She fits in with everyone dressed up here, but she still somehow sticks out. It might be her bright hair or I'm not sure. And she's completly different than Katie. There's something intriguing about her. I can't really tell, and I want to get closer to her, I don't know, talk with her or something. Get to know her.

"We're the TitWits," the guy, Cook, bellows into the microphone that's on the stand, "let's go fuckin' mental!" and with that, the girl with bright red hair, the one I'm assuming must be Katie's sister, starts a rhythm on the drums, loud and slow like a drum roll. Soon Cook and Freddie join in and Cook starts signing... or maybe shouting, into the microphone. It takes me a few minutes to decipher the words and recognize what he's signing because my attention is mostly on the girl playing the drums. It's impressive, almost magical. The Queen is Dead, that's the name of the song. I'm not sure who its originally by, though. It dosen't really sound like the original either, because of the shouting and the tempo.

"Close your mouth, Naomi. You look like a fucking fish," Effy snorts, shouting over the very loud music.

"They suck, don't they?" Katie asks loudly to Effy.

"They're not bad." Effy puts out, "what do you think Naomi?"

"What?" I ask, "Oh, the music. I don't know." I hadn't really been listening much, more just watching the drummer girl. Effy is smirking as if she knows what I've been doing. Plus it really wasn't my style of music. I kind of doubted they'd start playing any Blondie or Queen.

"They're shit, but everyone here loves them," Katie remarks.

"Come on, we might as well dance," Effy orders us to the dance floor. The dance floor itself is crowded with bodies jumping wildly with the music. We spend most of the night alternating between dancing caotically to the sound coming from the speakers and sitting, resting and drinking. And in between I would chance a few glances at the redhead drummer. On nights like this, Effy usually pulls or at least dances with some guys but tonight she played the good friend, staying with me. Like she had been for the past two weeks since I had broken up with my boyfriend. Effy dosen't usually dosen't bother to show comfort to anyone, or any emotion other than apathy, but we seem to bond over our issues with emotions. Plus I never really liked Jason, my ex. He was a tosser.

Most of the songs the band plays I don't really recognize, but we dance along to them anyways, getting lost in the drinks and the drugs Effy keep getting for us both. The band also seem to get better, playing nicer songs, though that might just be a cause of alcohol. But by last call, we're both sobering up.

"We're joining them for drinks." Effy states. Katie has left us again and the Dead Cat is mostly empty now, drunk patrons stumbling out since last call had been announced a while ago.

"Who?" I ask her, "shouldn't we be leaving now?" Looking around, the club seemed pretty empty and rather dirty. I kind of feel sorry for the janitor who's lazily sweeping the dance floor, but he's getting paid so it dosen't matter.

"Come on. The band. I know you want to," Effy smirks, and grabs my arm pulling me up from my spot on the couch.

Getting up made me realize how tired I am. It's pretty late. Or early I guess. 2 am maybe. Or 3. With a yawn I follow Effy up some steps to a VIP lounge, where a bunch of comfy red couches are located. There's some black drapes to provide privacy to the VIPs and a small coffee table in the middle filled with all sort of alcoholic bevrages, hard liquors and empty glasses.

Katie is already there, texting away on her phone, sitting beside the guy she had pointed out as JJ on one of the red couches. Effy makes her way to sit across from Katie and JJ and I sit down beside Effy.

"Hi, you must be Katie's friends. And Panda's. She left though with Thomas. I'm JJ. Did you like the band? Katie says they suck but I think they're quite good. That might be bias though, since I manage them, but I think they're good. They play-" JJ gets interupted as Katie hits him on the arm, telling him to shut up. He mumbles a sorry.

"Whatever. They're probably packing away their instruments." Katie explains as she grabs one of the bottles, chugs a bit and pulls a face.

"Hey Katie." The bass player greets, sitting down next to her. He finally seems to notice Effy and I and smiles at both of us, "I'm Freddie."

Effy just nods, leaving me to do the introductions.

"I'm Naomi," I say, "this is Effy."

"Oh right, the girl from your class?" Freddie directs this questions to Katie.

"Yeah babes. Where's the rest of your fucking idiot band then?" She asks, tapping her foot impatiently as if she has better things to do, or better people to see.

"Last I checked they were both trying to chat up the same barmaid," Freddie jokes, grinning, which gets a huff from Katie and a small smile from JJ. "So Effy, what did you think of-"

"This is a lame ass piss up!" the guitar player interupts, stumbling in, followed by the drum girl and another girl, dressed in a plain black golf shirt that had the club's logo on it.

The red haired girl who had played the drums was here, gracing us with her presence. She was even more beautiful up close, and there was something that made her stand out in comparision to her twin. And it wasn't just the strange punk clothing or makeup either.

Effy nudges me with her elbow, and shoves a bottle of vodka into my hands. I take a chug, which goes down smoothly, and watch as the guitarist, the redhead and the barmaid sit down on the last available couch.

"So Katiekins, you gonna introduce us to your fit friends?" the guy asks, waggling his eyebrows and taking his time to look at both me and Effy in turn.

"Stop oggling, you prick." Katie bites back, which makes her sister smile wider. "Right, Effy, Naomi, this is my sister, Emily and her pervy friend Cook."

"Ladies," Cook greets us with another smile, eyes resting on Effy's assets. A slap from the beautiful Emily seems to work in making him place his eyes somewhere more respectable.

"So did you guys enjoy it?" the redhead asks, and I'm stunned. Her voice is something unlike any other. Its diferent and suits her and is just simply sexy.

"Noams." Effy nudges me. "What did you think?"

"What?"

"The band. The music," Effy clarifies. Oh right.

"It was... lovely. Really good," I say, smiling to Emily, who grins back. Katie just frowns, but my attention is mostly on how beautiful the redhead looks smiling. Her dark, raccoon eyes are sparkling

"Thanks," she replies, "what did you think Katie?"

"It was shit, like it always is, Ems." Katie huffs, before crossing her arms.

"And yet you always come to our gigs, Katiekins," Cook points out. "Its because you want to willy waggle with the Cookie Monster."

"Fuck off, Cook." Katie retorts, "I'm just being a good sister. And I get free drinks."

"I need to close up," the nameless pink haired girl declares, getting up, "who am I talking to about paying for the gig?"

"That would be me," JJ gets up from his spot on the couch and follows her.

"I'm kicking the rest of you guys out in fifteen," she announces as she disappears with JJ.

"You guys are all good for getting home?" Emily asks us, moving closer to sit right beside Cook.

"We'll walk. Its not far," Effy decides.

"Not like you could give them a ride anyways," Katie replies to which Emily responds by giving her a pointed look. "I'll just hitch a ride with JJ and Freddie in the van. That okay Freds? Freds?"

Slapping the poor boy to get a response, he shakes his head out of his smoking stupor to just nod and accept.

"Come on then Cookie," Emily says, getting up and grabbing her checker red bag, that had her black, scrappy drumsticks sticking out, from the ground, "let's go home."

"Righto Emilio! We'll hang out soon." Cook hollers, only to yawn right after. "Ladies. Katie." He winks at us.

"Nice meeting you all," Emily waves good bye, leading Cook out of the VIP lounge.

"Sorry about the both of them," Katie apologises, "they're both twats."

"I thought they were nice," I point out quietly, "they dating then?"

At this Katie bursts out laughing, and Freddie opens his eyes again to give us a crooked smile.

"As if," Katie scoffs, after laughing, "I'm sure Cook has tried, but Ems... not really her type."

"Interesting," Effy points out.

"Yeah, her type has tits." Freddie laughs, using hands to make gestures that resemble boobs.

Mouth open in surprise, I look back at Emily and Cook, who are near the door, Cook's arm around Emily's waist in a almost protective manner. Friendly and brotherly not romantic then. I'm not sure why I feel so relieved.

Effy gets up suddenly, and drags me up by the hand, forcing me to get up. Walking a few steps, I realize just how tired we both are, as we stumble slowly to the doors of the club, Katie and Freddie following after us.

JJ and the pink haired girl are by the doors whispering until we approach.

"Ready to go Freds?" JJ asks the boy.

"Yeah, can we drop Katiekins off too?" he nods, and Katie grins back up to JJ.

"Yup," JJ confirms, pulling out the keys from his pocket, and pushing the black door open, letting the cool, Bristol night air into the warm club. "I'll see you later Lara."

The five of us seperate outside, as Katie and the two guys make their way to the back of the building where I can only assume they are parked.

"See you tomorrow yeah Effs?" Katie shouts back at us, before turning around the club.

Effy nods, though I doubt it is seen by Katie, and before either of us can say anything, a motorcycle zips past us, carrying two leather jacket clad punks that I can only guess are Emily and Cook, due to the red hair flying past in the wind.

"Naoms?" I turn to face Effy once the speeding red motorcycle is out of view, having turned down a street in the distance.

"Sorry, yeah." I reply, nodding.

"We should get going," she declares, with a small smirk that she carries with her the whole walk home.

**Author's Note: Hey guys, so I have another Emily/Naomi fic. This idea was too good to pass up and I really love punk music, so here it is. If you guys have any favorite songs that you think the TitWits could play, feel free to comment. Work has slowed down a bit, so I should be able to update more frequently. Enjoy.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: The story will alternate from Naomi to Emily's POV every other chapter. This chapter involves a chance encounter, a look into Emily's life, and the lovely Gina Campbell. Also, fun fact, the fic, Story of my Life is named after the Social Distortion song of the same name. Anyways, enjoy. Share your favorite bands or songs with me, I'd love to listen/hear from you lovely readers. WKB.**

Emily's POV

Its 9 am when I finally wake up, and that shocks me. I was supposed to be up an hour ago. My Saturdays have become increasingly busy, and with gigs every Friday night, I never have enough sleep to properly deal with my fucking hellish Saturdays. And to think, back in college, I used to look forward to them.

Part of it is Katie's fault, you could say. I should be really thankfull, and I mean I am, normally. Just mornings like this, where I wake up late and I curse the world, I feel perfectly justified blaming her. To be honest, I'd hate to be in her position. She's Switzerland in a war that's been going on for three years between our mother and me, and as an attempt to bring the family back together, Katie's arranged biweekly suppers between the three of us. Sometimes Dad makes an appearance, but he prefers our random solo lunches where neither my Mother or Katie are present. I definitly prefer his lunches, any day. And if I could, I'd bunk off these suppers too.

First on my horrid to-do list is to shower and get ready. After my shower I realize what a challenge getting ready will be. Usually I have more time to do things throughout the day, but today, everything is pretty squished together. I'm going to have to be pretty efficient. I pack my bag for the day, with a change of clothes, my sheet music for tonight, my makeup kit and hairspray. Fortunatly it all fits, and I sigh with relief when I check the time. Its 10:03, and my first lesson isn't untill 11:00 so I'm doing perfectly well for time. And I'm perfectly comfortable until I hear Call Me by Blondie. Its my ringtone, and I know, kind of cheesy choice for a ringtone, but I don't give two shits. Caller ID states its Katie.

"What up, sis?" I answer.

"Hey lezza," she replies, rather loudly, "just reminding you, we're coming to your flat."

"Oh fuck." I had completly forgot. My Mother had insisted we have meals at my tiny flat instead of the Fitch mansion, for some cocked up reason. Shit. Its stupid really, when she has her ever so 'lovely' six seater table. I think its mostly because of the neighbours and my mother's ever so important image. Either that, or she worries I'll somehow influence my poor, young and innocent brother. That was sarcasm.

"Shit. Katie, its a complete mess," I offer, hoping, somehow, that it would somehow change things.

"Yeah, look who you live with," she points out. That's only kind of true. A lot of it is his mess, but he can't take the whole blame.

"Whatever, Kay," I say, "I've got shit to do, so I'll see you at 6."

I hang up on her, not letting her add anything that might ruin the rest of the day. Reexamining my bag, I empty the whole thing, placing only the sheet music back in.

I'm a bit surprised when I enter the pigsty of a kitchen to see Cook. Usually he's not up until at least noon, though his current state could hardly be considered awake. More like a half naked, zombie Cook, sipping coffee while smoking an early morning fag.

"Hey, Red," he greets, not bothering to even look up from his phone. I pop some bread into the toaster, while stuffing the shopping list into my hand, and grabbing the keys too. Its not until I hear Cook snickering behind me that I turn around.

"What?" I blurt out.

"Sorry, Emilio, its just," he states, pointing to my outfit. "Ridiculous. But... kind of sexy librarian." I'm wearing a plain black skirt and white blouse, one of the only shirts of its colour, and an ensemble only used when I'm out giving lessons.

"Not funny, Cookie." I reply, "you'll be here for tonight, yeah?"

"The gig?" Cook asks.

"No, the fucking Fitch family feast," I answer, "here." I gesture around us, where the normally unused kitchen table sits, covered in CDs and bottles of assorted alcohol.

"Ha, no."

"Please, Cookie..." I beg, giving him my best puppy eyes. "Please?"

"Fine. But you owe me," he says, "so, what's for supper?"

Oh, shit. I turn around on the spot, facing the fridge instead of Cook sitting at the counter. Pulling it open, I'm not too surprised to see what we have. There's some beer, a few lemonades and mixed drinks, leftover kraft dinner and a few assorted vegetables and fruits. Nothing to make a supper for four.

"I'll pick up some chicken or something. And stuff for a salad. Steamed veggies." I suggest, running through what we have in my head. I'll be very pressed for time today.

"Stop at the bakery beside Tesco, get a cake or something." Cookie adds, to which I respond with a very confused look. "What?! Can't have a proper meal without a proper dessert. And that bakery is fucking ace."

"Right. Can you clear the table? Just so there's room for plates." I ask, hoping he'll comply. I don't really care how messy the place is, in fact, messier is better. Anything to spite my mother.

"We angering Mama Fitch?" Cook replies, catching on quickly.

"Yeah. Dress hardcore. Tattoos showing and everything."

"You got it, Red." Cook agrees.

"I'll see you at 5:30, kay?"

"See ya, Emilio," taking me into one of his classic Cookie hugs, before departing off to his room. I'm taking the motorcycle today, and though not many of my students' parents like it, the students themselves think its the coolest thing ever.

My first lesson of the day is a piano lesson for a young girl named Nicole, who lives near my mother and Katie's, in one of those rather big houses in a motherfucking gated community, where the grass of every house is perfectly even, bushes perfectly manicured and the cars are shined to an ever sparkling gleam. I hated it. Absolutly loathed places like this, but they payed well. Most of my lessons were taught at the Cabaret's Music School office, in one of the classes, but the higher class parents, such as Nicole's, often paid to have the teachers come to their houses to teach instead.

Nicole herself wasn't a bad kid either. She had the potential to be a great piano player, though she did whine a lot when she thought the songs I picked for her were boring. Her parents were strict, and at first, only let her play classical music, but with some convincing from me and some complaining from her, I was teaching her some easy Disney songs, some jazz and a few classic rock songs.

Her lesson lasted an hour, and at noon I left, to my next lesson, which was with Trevor, a kid my brother's age who had been one of my first students. He had been taking guitar for two years now, and though I'm not the best quitar player, at least not as good as Cook, I know enough to teach and I know how to teach, which is something Cook lacks. Trevor's lesson was only half an hour, and after that, I was off to the music school, where I had yet another lesson, this one with a younger girl, Jessica, who was learning piano as well. Most of her stuff consists of learning notes themselves, as she's only six.

"Hey Wes," I greet, as I'm about to leave for the day. He's by the printer in the hall, printing sheet music.

"Hey kid," he smiles back. Wes is about the only coworker both Cook and I enjoy hanging out with from the school, and he happens to be gay as a window. He also suffers against the school's strict dress code, and most of his outrageously lovely outfits are left to nights when we hang out.

"Supper with the fam today?" he asks, while I'm packing up my sheet music and stuffing it into my bag.

"Yup, it'll be a right ole laugh," I reply, "a fuckin' joy."

"Well, good luck, I'll see you Monday, love." He waves as I'm out the door.

"Cheers," I shout back.

Changing my plans slightly, I turn my motorcycle towards home instead of towards Tesco. I need to check on Cook and his progress with the table, and I feel really uncomfortable in these clothes, certainly on the motorcycle.

It's three when I get back to the apartment, and I'm surprised to see Cook gone. He has no shift at the McClair's CD store today, and usually mid day, he can't be fucked to leave the house. I know he'll stay true to his word, he wouldn't let me endure this fucking fiasco of a meal alone, and I'm surprised to see the table clear and set.

The CDs and sheet music that had occupied the table earlier have been pushed up on the counter and on a chair and the stereo in the corner. Some of it has become a centre piece on the table, lacking room elsewhere.

Placing the bag of sheet music on a chair, I run to my room, ripping of my work outfit and quickly changing into the set of clothes I had prepared for tonight. My holey, faded black Rancid shirt I put on first, along with some tights that had seen better days, and over the tights I place my pair of black and white checker shorts. I replace my converse with my Dr Martens, and I grab my jacket for when I leave. My makeup is next on my to-do list, making it more pronounced and radical then before. I'm set to finish my errands now, and putting on my jacket and grabbing my small, red purse, I'm ready to go.

Tesco is about five minutes away, but traveling back is always somewhat of a challenge with bags of food, so usually Cook and I only do it when necessary. Freddie does let us borrow his van on occasion, but other than that, Cook and I are stuck travelling with our beautifull motorcycle.

Taking a cart, I fill it with the necessary, grabbing some easy-to-bake frozen chicken, some lettuce and croutons, and I'm good to go. I do receive a strange look from the cashier, who happens to be a forty year old woman, but I'm used to it.

The bakery Cook had mentioned is right in between a dry cleaners and a jewellery boutique. The bakery itself isn't anything out of the ordinary, painted a tacky pink colour, with wide windows that are decorated with blue streamers and fairy lights. A sign above the door states: _Gina's Buns. _Its cute and qauint, and I'm laughing inside.

The bakery being empty, I walk straight up to the counter, browsing through the isles, where bread, cupcakes and muffins are randomly placed. The smell of the bakery is lovely, like chocolate and fresh bread. The cakes displayed on the counter all look heavenly, and they were all so well decorated and made, deciding will be a big challenge.

"Hi there, can I help you, sweetie?" a voice interupts my cake ogling, and the lady, dressed in an apron, and grinning at me with such a genuine smile I can't help but smile back at her. She's lovely. Her crooked nametag states her as the owner, Gina.

"I guess I need a cake. They all look delicious though," I tell her and her smile grows.

"Whats the occasion?" she asks.

"Tedious supper with my mother and sister," I reply, "and flatmate." I add, remembering that I'm here because of Cook.

"Sounds lovely, dear," she says, laughing a bit. "So fancy to impress or simple to say 'I couldn't be fucked'?"

"The second one, yeah," I nod, instantly appreciating this woman more and more.

She's about to pack up what looks like a very chocolate cake when the bell on the door jingles, signalling someone coming in to the store. I don't look back right away, but Gina, the bakery woman looks, and her face brightens even more, if that's possible.

Two girls are entering the store, a blonde and a brunette, both beautiful, and the bakery woman envelops both into a large hug.

"Christ, Mum," the blonde scoffs, even though she's smiling and her bright blue eyes are sparkling. "So I take it your vacation was nice?"

"Fantastic love. I take it you both got nice and settled in the flat? Jake visit often now, with you having your own place?" She ends that question with a wink, and I can't help but laugh, which I try, with my best efforts to cover up with a cough.

A beautiful blush rushes up the blonde's cheeks and I can't help but sweep my eyes across her, and her blush gets brighter as she notices me standing at the counter.

"Sorry, love," the bakery woman says, rushing back to the counter, "my mardy bum of a daughter never visits me, so I have to make the most of it."

"Thanks, mum. You know I can hear you right?" she remarks back.

The blonde's mother starts packing my cake, while humming, when the brunette makes her way over, followed by the blonde.

"Hey Emily," the brunette greets, her dark eyes shinning in amusement. She seems to automatically sense my confusion when she explains: "We met yesterday."

That sparks my memory right up, when Cook and I had sauntered our way to the VIP section of the club, still high from the night and the performing, met two beautiful friends of my sister. Strange choice for my sister, I guess. Neither really fit in with the club or the music that night.

"You're friends with Katie," I say, smiling back. The blonde seems apprehensive whereas the brunette is simply observing.

"Effy," she shrugs, introducing herself, "incase you don't remember. And Naomi."

"And you're making friends, Naomi dear," the blonde's mother interupts, making me and Effy smile and Naomi grimace.

"Fuck off, Mum," is her response, which shocks me internally. Language like that towards my mother is what got me slapped in the face, cut off and kicked out. That, punk rock and my sexuality.

Gina's response is simply to smile and hand her daughter a cupcake. Something my mother would never do.

"Are you going to Katie's whatever tonight?" Naomi asks, somewhat unenthusiastically, regarding the house party as more of a chore than a party. Effy just shrugs along, as if agreeing with Naomi.

"Don't think so," I reply, shaking my head, and though little, I catch what might be disappointment. Of course, my eyes drift lazily down from her eyes downwards. Eyes off tits, Fitch, I tell myself, her mother said something about a Jake. Straight and taken. Fuck. "Gig, but I could probably drag Cook with after we're done. If we're still alive." I offer.

Gina and I are exchanging cake for money, with Effy observing all the while sipping from her pop drink. I give Gina a sincere thank you, before turning to the door.

"So, what's the cake for?" Effy asks.

"I'm fat," I say, "Its my lunch."

"Really?" Naomi scoffs, eyeing my size up, clearly doubting the power of a Fitch on an empty stomach.

"Nope, tedious family supper," I say, checking my watch, "which I'll probably be late for."

"You're going to take that on the motorcycle?" Effy asks. Its the only other vehicle parked outside the bakery, other than the battered Civic I assume belong to the two.

"Yeah," I nod, "Always up to a challenge."

"I bet you are," Effy nods.

"Anyways, I'll see you two later," I wave, heading back to my black baby. Challenge was right and I stuff the groceries into the back compartment and make room for the cake on my lap. The whole trip home was rather hesitant, and I almost killed the cake at an intersection, but on arriving home, pulling it out, it is fine.

"Got the cake, Emilio Man!" Cook shouts, as I reveal the perfectly intact cake. He reaches to get some icing but I slap his hand away. And that's when I notice his hair. His usually unkempt, dark brown hair, styled in what he called, "the Sid Vicious coif" is now transformed into a strange, almost uneven and short mohawk that's unevenly painted green.

"Jesus, Cook. Your hair!" I can't help but point and laugh.

"I did it myself," he declares as he preens the top of his head proudly. "You said you wanted shocking."

"Shocking, not hilarious!" I retort, to which Cook responds by tackling me down and tickling me. "Fuck Cook! I give! I give!"

"Tell me I'm handsome first! Fit!" Cook demands.

"Never!" I dramatically shout, trying to push him off again, but he's almost twice my weight and height. It's not going to happen. My answer only makes him start to tickle my underarms, slowly approaching my breasts.

"Don't you dare," I say, seconds before he grabs both my tits. "You oaf!"

"Say it, Fitch!"

"Fine," I grumble, "you're fit."

"There!" he proclaims, getting up, and hoisting me up from the kitchen floor. "Now was that so hard?"

"Yes." I grumble, "and we're late Cookie! Its almost fucking 5!"

"Fuck, Red," he sighs, following me to the counter. The chicken we pop into the oven right away, in hopes that it will be done before Mum and Katie get here. I give Cook the simple task of chopping letuce for the salad and I prepare the steamed veggies. Our meal dosen't look bad for something prepared in twenty minutes, and I'm quite happy with it. The ceaser salad probably has a bit too much dressing and too few croutons, the steamed veggies are a bit bland and undercooked but the chicken looks fine and smells fine.

We place the serving plates on top of CDs and where room allows it and we're set. Right on time too, as I hear a knock from the door. I gave Katie an apartment key a long time ago, and usually she just barges in, but I'm assuming with Mum around, she's trying to be the favorite, polite daughter our mother sees her as.

I'm at the door while Cook is filling the glasses with wine, and I open it to reveal both Katie and my mum. Katie pulls me into a quick hug, whispering good luck into my ear, before leaving me with my mum to go and talk with Cook.

"Mum," I greet her, closing the door behind her. Her face barely registers the greeting, not changing from the scowl she had upon opening the door. She takes a quick look around the flat, as if hoping that's its become more family friendly and punk free over the month, but a quick huff shows her disappointment. I'm plenty used to it though, I don't think I've seen her happy around me since I was fourteen. Katie has always been her favorite, but until that age she had gone out of her way to hide it. Now, she just makes it plainly obvious. I'm her other daughter, the one she'll mention only if she remembers. Not that it surprises me at all, I've spent the last two years or so doing my best to spite her.

"Hi Jenna!" Cook greets her, full of fake enthusiasm.

"Hello James," she utters back, she's completly unimpressed. "I see you two are still living together." My mother's opinion on Cook always changes, though when she had first heard that Cook and I were moving in together she had been thrilled, thinking it was some sort of heterosexual, summer, housing arrangement. She hadn't spoken to me that whole year, having kicked me out when I had declared myself gay, and having heard this from Katie made her thrilled enough to actually attempt to mend her relationship with me. Of course, unknowingly, she hadn't considered the influence Cook had on me. Mostly introducing me to punk rock.

"He is my best friend you know" I mutter back, sitting down in my seat and crossing my arms.

"Lovely to see you too, Jenna!" Cook smiled, running his hand through his awful, green hair.

"Hows your little band doing then?" she asks as if she's sacrificing a lot just to be a bit civil.

"Great! I don't know if Katiekins told you," Cook tells her, as I serve out the chicken and salad, "but Jay got us an audition to open for Rise Against. We're also playing at the festival in two weeks. Fucking ace stuff."

"That's" she cringes, trying to find an adjective, "fantastic."

There's silence for a moment, we're all eating quietly and Cook is taking large sips of his wine.

"Have you ever thought of playing different music?" Mum asks, "people are always looking for good wedding bands." She suggests. I look at Katie and she just shrugs.

"I'm not sure the TitWits are right for Let's Get Fitched, Mum," Katie defends, before either Cook or I can say anything.

"Maybe if the..." Mum stumbles for words, unwilling to even pronounce the band name, "if they played better music-" Cook's getting pretty angry, and though Katie notices, its my turn to play some sort of peace keeper. I was never as good at it as Katie is, but at least I can change the subject.

"I saw some of your friends today, Kay" I interject.

"Yeah?" she asks, exagerating her interest in hopes that the topic change goes smoothly.

"The ones Cook and I met yesterday," I tell her, "saw them at the bakery by Tesco."

"Effy?"

"Yeah, from one of your uni classes, yeah?" I confirm and she nods, "and the blonde girl, Naomi."

"They were fit," Cook agrees, to which Mum just sighs. I'm about to agree and add my own comments about my opinions on the blonde, when I'm shut up by Katie's glare. Not now is what I get from it. Katie Fucking Fitch, the only person in the world who can shut me up with a look. Its a Fitch thing.

"Right, they were visiting Naomi's mum at the bakery," I pointed out, "did you know that Cook?"

It was Cook's favorite bakery after all, and he might not just go there for cookies and cakes. A guilty smirk and shrug is his response.

"Didn't know Gina had a daughter," he admits. Of course he's got first name basis with Naomi's mum.

"You should hang out with Katie's friends more often," Mum suggests, whenever Katie makes friends, Mum is always extremly fond of them, whatever gender, whereas my little group of friends are my band, Wes my coworker, and a group of fangirls that I get and sometimes end up sleeping with. Misfits and bad influences.

"Mum," Katie counters, "I've known Effy for like two weeks. And I only met her flatmate yesterday. You haven't met either of them."

"But they sound lovely," Mum adds, trusting Katie's choices.

"They are," Cook affirms, waggling his eyebrows, and we ignore him.

"What class do you have with them?" I ask, curious to know Naomi's interests.

"Intro to Phil," Katie answers, "just with Effy though. Naomi's her flatmate or something."

"Know what she does then?" I aks, and her smirk tells me more than I need to know. She knows I have a new target. "I think she has a boyfriend, you know." I point out, but her smirk remains. Mum's eyes move from me to Katie, trying to understand what we're saying with our eyes, and Cook's too distracted by cake to care.

"Right," she replies, her smirk remains, "some boring shit, like politics or law or something."

"That's fantastic. She must be very clever. You should hang out with her more often Ems. She sounds like a wonderful girl." Mum insists, to which Katie coughs, covering her laugh, and I just smile. Mum hears 'straight' and 'law' and she approves. Of course, the hanging out me and Katie are thinking of Mum certainly wouldn't approve of.

When I first came out, in college, Katie kept me far away from her friends, afraid that I'd embarass or freak her friends out. The whole fiasco of me getting kicked out of the Fitch mansion, and having to move into school accomodation resulted in me becoming friends with Cook, who was also in student accomodatinos, and Freddie, the guys that Katie's friends all thought were lush, popular and fit. And so, Katie went from ignoring to super supportive. Since uni, she's centered and become more mature about it, and we became better sisters because of it.

"Anyways, Intro to Phil is dull as fuck," Katie rambles on.

"Katie! Language!" Mum says.

"Mum, we're with Cook and Ems," Katie points out.

"Hey!" I shout back.

"Its true. Punk and Cook made you foul mouthed!" Katie reminds me, to which Cook smiles proudly and I just shrug.

"Are you going to Katie's soiree?" Mum asks. Of course, Katie worded 'house party' differently to Mum.

"Cook and I have a gig tonight. Maybe after," I tell her.

"You know its not polite to show up late," Mum nags, pointing this out as if I'm a child.

"Mum, you know playing music is kind of my job," I remind her, "I get paid for these gigs."

"Dosen't the school pay you enough?" she asks. She really hates the band.

"Yeah, but I'm trying to save up Mum."

"What for?" she asks, in her ignorant, money-grows-on-trees way.

"I don't know," I say, my voice laced with sarcasm, "a nicer drum set, a bigger flat, university maybe."

The last one makes Mum frown and look down at her slice of cake in guilt. When Mum had kicked me out she had cut me off too, making me have to start my own savings. Together, Cook and I had been able to afford our decent flat, our motorcycle and I had been able to save up for a used drum set. The joint savings Mum and Dad had for Katie and I now only went to Katie's university tuition.

Katie gave me a sad smile, the one she uses to tell me she wishes things were better, and early on I had insisted she use the money.

"Anyways, we should get going, Katie love," Mum adresses her, getting up. Without a goodbye, she's out the door, and Katie turns to me.

"I'm sorry, Ems," Katie apologizes.

"Its really not your fault, you know," I tell her, pulling her into a Fitch hug.

"No hug for the Cookie Monster?" Cook hollers, attention to us.

"Fuck off, Cook," she answers, flipping him off instead and following Mum out the door.

"That was awfull" Cook pulls me into a hug next. We stay together longer in our embrace, until the hug works its magic and makes me feel better.

"Lets get ready," Cook commands, "tonight will be fucking mental!"


	3. Chapter 3

Naomi's POV

The party Effy was dragging me along to wasn't too far from our flat, somewhere on the other side of the university, down a rather nice street with some larger houses. We took the bus, and though I complained about both the party and the public transportation, I am relieved to have a night off from coursework. And I am hoping that Emily shows up, even though I know she has a gig tonight.

And so, since I've been here, I've spent most of the time lurking around, staying near the edges of the crowd and close to the door, in case Emily does show up. Effy herself was gaining attention, though no one here seems to have the guts to try and dance with her. Its her style, to dance in her invigorating, mysterious way, attracting and confusing people. I have always been a crowd lurker though, observing people in a different way than Effy.

I'm currently sitting on the steps of the house, near enough to watch the crowd from above and in perfect view of the front door. And though, to observers that aren't my best friend, I appear to be apathetically smoking and drinking on my lonely step, I'm impatiently waiting for the arrival of one Emily Fitch. Unfortunatly its the wrong Fitch thats coming up the steps at this moment, with some boy toy following after her.

"Hey, Campbell," she greets drunkenly, stopping a step before me with her boy toy looking down her shirt appreciatively.

"Hey, Katie," I answer back, looking up at her and then back at my phone, pretending to be texting so as not to look like a loser in front of the redhead's older sister.

"Not enjoying the party?" she asks, as if she is to blame, "there's plenty of fit guys in the other room if your interested. Or girls, if you're into that," she offers next.

I give her a serious look, to which she laughs and kisses the boy beside her on the cheek, telling him to wait a few more minutes untill they can find a second storey room to use.

"Unless you're waiting for someone?" she asks, hinting for me to give her some goss. And then I notice a look of realization, as she observes me for a second, looks down to where Effy is still dancing, alone, then at the door, her silver watch and back at me. This time she's smiling ever so widely.

"Don't worry, she'd totally be up for it." Katie says, reasurring me for I have no idea what. But before I can ask, she grabbing her man's hand and continuing up the steps.

And so, after that strange Fitch interuption, I'm up. I'm done watching the door, and I'm off to get another drink though I know I'll return to those steps soon.

When I make it to the kitchen I'm surprised to see Cook, Emily's bass playing friend, standing there, loading up on snacks and drinks.

"Hey, Blondie," he greets, looking a bit dazed and drunk and red around the eyes, but otherwise fine, "wanna get the door?" He motions with his head towards a back door, leading to a garden, his hands to full to point to it. He's got a pizza box, some assorted box of cookies, and some bottles of whiskey, rum and vodka balanced on top. Even though he seems rude and dirty, he is a friend of Emily's and there's no way he can open that door without dropping something, so I oblige. And when he's out I turn to go back towards the party, to Effy, but he calls out, before the door shuts.

"Wrong way Blondie! This way!"

I think about ignoring him, but I've consumed just enough alcohol that curiosity gets the better of me, and I can't help but wonder where he's off to. Maybe, a part of me thinks, maybe off to Emily herself.

"Where're we off to?" I ask once I've caught up to him.

"Freddie's shed. For some good ol' fun," he explains, "unless you up to another kind of fun." He offers, waggling his eyebrows. I can't help but laugh, and instead of accepting, I simply hold the shed door open for him and follow him inside.

The shed itself itsn't that spectacular. Kind of grungy, with old posters of punk bands, and some flower print couches that look way worse than the ones Effy and I have. There's a guitar and a drumset too, and right in the middle, standing on some small table, is something rather spectacular.

Emily herself, in all her beauty and grunge style, is standing, her hair widly messy and red, some of it tucked under a black beanie, that match her patchy tights. But there she is, standing on the table, entertaining Freddie, JJ, people who didn't really match up to the party inside, and she's telling them some sort of story, all the while, air guitaring and waving her arms around passionatly and jumping on the table to emphasize some of the greater moments of this story.

"She's doing it again," Cook sighs, and I look at him, asking for what she's doing. "She's telling about the time she played with Kurt Cobain." Cook explains.

"But isn't he dead?" I ask, confused. I might not be that educated in their music, but I'm pretty sure I'm right about this.

"Yeah. Lil Red was high or some shit, and listening to Nirvana, and she dreamt it." Cook says, a grin creeping up on his face.

Observing her once more, its seems a bit stupid to think she'd believe Kurt Cobain visited her in her dreams, but looking at her tell the story, clearly wasted, its kind of cute. But the way she told it was totally hot.

"Emilio man! Story times over!" he shouted, interupting her from her tale, and she smiled as she saw him with the pizza and alcohol. Her smile grew when she saw me, or at least, I think it did. Cook all but pushes her off the table and places the food and drink on it instead and sits right down on the empty couch behind the table, facing Freddie and the other boys. Emily sits down farther on the couch, and taps the cushion, the only available spot between her and Cook.

They both smile widely as I sit down beside them and I can't help but think back to the few nights before when they had been sitting like this, clearly trying to get the interest of the pink haired barmaid. I felt like they did this one many occasions, getting a girl in between them, being true lads, and taking their turns in hopes of one of them winning her. And unfortunatly, or maybe fortunatly, I was that poor totty stuck in between two wolves. Both of them are rather charming, but I'm straight and Cook seems like a one night stand type.

Usually, with lads, one would be the wingman and the other would hope to score, but here it seemed to be pure, playful competition. And with a gulp, I was the prize.

I look across us, to the couch where Freddie is smoking and JJ is chatting with the pink haired girl from the other night. Freddie is shaking his head and when he notices me looking he winks, as if to wish me good luck.

"So, Naomi," Emily says, her voice huskier, and I'm only guessing its from the long day she must have had. "You up for some Charlie?" she asks, pulling out a small baggie from shirt, where it was nessled in between her breasts. I can't help but nod, still intranced by the small beauty.

"You're in the middle Blondie!" Cook shouts, and smiles wildly at me.

"What does he mean by that?" I ask Emily, and she just sticks her tongue out at Cook. She has a pierced tongue! Jesus, that's hot!

"You've never done coke?" she asks me, not answering my question.

"Well yeah, tons with Eff," I exaggerate. Its not a blatant lie, I've done cocaine twice, both times Effy pressuring me to.

"Done it proper though?" Emily asks, and the confusion across my face is enough for her to explain further. "Off the thigh of someone. Usually a hot woman."

"What?" I mutter. And Emily simply smiles at me and then looks down to my knees. Oh. No. I am not taking a part in this. I don't want to be a party pooper, but I think snorting cocaine off my thighs is to far. But, Emily did imply I am a hot woman.

"No," I protest, shaking my head.

"Come on Blondie, it'll be fun," Cook puts in, "plus you did sit in the middle."

"Would you have done it if you were in the middle?" I argue.

"Fuck yeah," he says like he's done it before. It wouldn't surprise me if he had.

"But Cook's not a hot woman," Emily insists, "and you sat in the middle." She restates as if those are the only two qualifications. I don't bother asking if she's done it before.

"Fine, whatever." I huff.

Both Emily and Cook holler, high fiving and smiling like idiots, while I sit in the cursed middle sit, arms crossed and huffing. Emily passes Cook a note, that he starts rolling up, while Emily opens the tiny baggie. She looks up at me before pushing my skirt up. I can't help but gasp. Her hands are cold and soft, with some callouses from playing instruments. I watch as she carefully empties most of the baggie onto my leg, slowly, making sure none of the powder falls onto the couch. She zips the bag and places it back into her bra. Cook passes her his licence or some sort of card and she splits the pile of coke into two thin neat lines.

Cook leans in slowly, smiling widly, and starting at one end, he starts sniffing up the coke using the rolled up note. It feels fucking ridiculous, and I'm struggling not to laugh. He passes the note to Emily, and she gives me a dark smile. She places her hand back on my thigh, the other holding the note, keeping eye contact until the very last moment, where she sniffs up the coke in a quick second.

"Your turn!" Emily whispers, to which Cook cheers.

"Pick, Blondie!" Cook insists, and Emily pulls the baggie out again, waving it a bit around my face.

"Who's it gonna be, Naoms?" she asks, her voice deeper, as if trying to persuade me, "me or Cook?"

"You said it had to be a hot woman" I answer, my voice breaking a bit, and coming out less confident than I had hoped for, "so it'll have to be you."

Cook's excitement dosen't falter, and Emily's smile grows. Emily gets up, and peels off her tights and skirt in one, leaving her in her black boy shorts and revealing some of her tattoos. On one of her legs, starting at the ankle, she has a tree vine that spirals up, with tiny birds flying around it, and across, on her other thigh, is a bigger bird, slightly demonic, almost like an eagle with its tongue sticking out. My mouth is wide open in shock, Cook is laughing his head off and Emily is grinning after seeing my reaction. Being caught staring I quickly look around the very empty room, Freddie being crashed out on the other couch and JJ gone.

Emily creates a line on her thigh with the card that was left on the table and passes me the note. I take a deep breath, avoiding eye contact and quickly, with only a tiny bit of hesitation, sniff the powder from her pale leg. It hit stronger than the last two times I had done it, not that I remembered much from those experiences, it felt sort of like a headrush. I smiled back to her after my hit.

She stares back into my eyes. I'm pretty sure we've been sitting here forever, staring at each other, but it can't be, with Cook's child like impatience. Cook's holler is what brings us both back to earth. And with an awkward blush, I look everywhere but Emily. The shed room is interesting, and I'm looking at the posters when something catches my eye.

I get up from my place on the couch, and I know both Emily's and Cook's eyes are on me. Taped to the wall along with an assortment of concert ticket stubs is a photograph. Its got the same Cook, but younger looking, with the same style jacket, plaid ripped pants and boots, Freddie looking stoned as ever in an old Motley Crue shirt and JJ, looking so very very young, with curly curly hair and braces. Emily's there too, and its her that looks the most different from today. Young Emily, wearing blue tights and a flower blouse, looking so different without the piercings or tattoos. And a tiny bow in her hair.

"What you lookin' at Blondie?" Cook shouts, getting up quickly and running over to look over my shoulder. I point to the picture. Emily's blushing and Cook proudly rips off the picture to show her.

"That was taken two years ago, kay?" she defends her rather cute younger self.

"Before lil Emsy here discovered the power of punk rock," Cook adds.

"Fuck off, Cookie," Emily barks, but I grab the photo out of her hands, looking back at it once more.

"I think its cute," I point out. "So what is this place then? Band HQ?"

"Sort of," Emily nods, "Its Freddie's shed. Where it all started years ago."

"Cool," I say, looking around once more at the poor old shed. I can only imagine the four of them, years ago, joking around in this shed, attempting to play music and getting shit faced at it. It might be the coke making me hallucinate but I can almost see it and almost here it. The laughing. The shitty music.

And that's when the shed door flies open, revealing my best friend and Katie, who is now free of her boy toy. Both Emily and I shriek a bit, being startled out of our wits, and Cook hollers and then laughs. Of course, the loud noises waken Freddie right out of his slumber.

"Jesus, Ems, really?" Katie shouts, loudly, and poor Freddie places his hand to his head. I understand his pain, a loud girl like that might not be the greatest thing to wake up to.

Emily is standing there, plain as day, in her jacket, shirt and boy shorts, her tights and skirt long ago forgotten by the couch. She dosen't blush or anything.

"Nice tattoos," Effy compliments, looking down her legs, and Emily just smiles an ever so confident smile.

"But seriously, you and Cook are devils," Katie says, strutting over to the two. She puts out her hand, waiting in expectation, "now who has it?"

"None left, sorry Katiekins," Cook apologises but his grin is wide as ever.

"You fucking selfish twats," she crosses her arms and huffs at him, looking ever so terrifying.

Freddie is already lighting his spliff up, and Katie, still glaring at Cook, plops herself down right beside Freddie, giving him an expectant look.

"Stairway to Heaven," Effy says, pulling out her own little baggie, this one full of little pills.

"Fucking mental Effs!" Cook shouts, but instead of going straight to Effy for some pills he goes to Fred's cd case, pulling one of the cds out and placing it into the player.

"Led Zepplin? That's not very 'punk rock'" Katie remarks, putting little air quotes around the words.

"My party, my rules," Cook counters.

"Technically not your party. Not your house. Or shed." Katie points out, sticking her tongue out.

"Oi! Enough!" Ems says, shutting them up. Momentarily. The bickering begins again, as Effy offers her pills to Katie, who insists Cook dosen't need them.

Finally the bickering ends when Effy points something out, pinned to the opposite wall of the shed, something I hadn't seen coming in.

"Whats that?" she asks, pointing to the whiteboard behind our heads, where the names Freddie, Cook, Emily and JJ were messily written each followed by what seems to be a random amount of crooked little tally marks. I tried to think up of what it could be, and counted the little marks. JJ had only one, Freddie had a good dozen or so, and Emily and Cook seemed to be tied, with what looked like, at a glance, twice as much as Freddie.

"Oh, remember that, Emilio man?" Cook ask, pointing back at it. Emily's face goes from a smug grin to a blush.

"Its our shag leader board from college. Y'know, a tally for each shag. Winner at the end of the school year gets free drinks and drugs at the end of year college party." Cook explains it cool as day, and I can't help but stare at the board with my mouth wide open. I'm not sure what to say, but fortunatly, Katie's got that covered.

"Oh my God Ems, you're such a slag," she says, disgust in her voice, and Emily dosen't fight it.

"So who won that year?" Effy asks, and I'm not sure I want to hear the answer.

"No one," Emily answers, "it was a tie."

"Wait, that competition you were having at Anna Fitzgerald's party?" Katie asks, and Emily shrugs.

"That was supposed to be our tie breaker. The one who shagged Anna was to be college shag king." Emily says, a slight smile on her face, reminiscing and I'm hoping its about the good times in college and not this Anna girl.

"What was so special about her?" I ask before I can stop myself.

"Her tits!" Cook shouts and starts laughing his loud giggle. But Emily turns to me seriously.

"She was a beautiful blue eyed bisexual beauty," Emily smiles.

"So she didn't put out that night?" Effy asks, smirking.

"Oh no, she did, just not with me or Cook," Emily answers, laughing a bit.

"Freddie?" Katie asks.

"No, JJ," Emily answers, and for a second, the three of us can't believe it. Expecting it to be a joke, but Emily's face is completly serious.

"Our Jaykins became a man that day," Cook says, wiping away a fake tear, "we were so proud."

"Growing up," Emily joins in, pulling Cook into a hug. He picks her up and spins her, and Emily shrieks with laughter.

"Enough nostalgic college stories," Cook declares, "we need those fucking pills!"

He runs over to where Effy and Katie are sitting, on the other couch, and rips the baggie out of Katie's hand. Effy seems comfortable just sitting there, smoking and drinking and watching the two fighting over drugs, but Emily pulls me over, making me almost fall over.

"Come on, lets leave these losers," Emily says and I follow. Or I attempt to. The room seems to spin a bit, and its an uncordinated swirl of colours. Emily firmly grips on to my hand instead, and I feel myself getting a bit more centered at her touch. Its almost magical. Maybe it is.

"I have an idea," Emily says once we've left the loud shed.

"Yeah?" I ask, confused as to where she's leading me. I'm even more confused when we head away from Freddie's house and onto the pavement in front. Its dark out, and the party inside Freddie's house seems to have died down, and I'm suddenly struck with a curious thought.

"If this is Freddie's house, why isn't he hosting the party?" I ask. I'm pretty sure the whole evening Freddie had been in the shed, smoking weed lazily, letting people come to him.

"His sister's party," Emily explains. "Have you ever climbed a fence before?"

"What? No, why?" I answer. I immediatly regret my answer, wishing I had lied in order to impress her. Of course she's probably done all sorts of awesome things.

"One of Freddie's neighbours had a kid's birthday party." Emily explains, but this seems to not answer my question at all, only confuse me more.

"Okay?" I ask.

"They have a bouncy castle" Emily explains, pointing to the chainlink fence, and on the other side, like Emily had said, is the bright, colourful bouncy castle.

"Come on, it'll be fun," Emily insists, grinning. Part of me only wants to do this to see hardcore Emily bouncing like a seven year old, but another part of me wants to do it only to impress her. The rest of me is convinced this is all an awful idea. Which it probably is, but drunk and high, I couldn't care less. Listening to my reasonable self seems to have no benefits anyways.

"This is easy," Emily says when we reach the fench. "Just stuff your foot in the holes and climb. Don't get your clothing stuck on the top." And with that tiny lesson done, Emily somehow climbs the fence in her big, clunky boots. When she gets to the top, she gracefully swings herself over, jumping to the grass below. She turns to face me, waiting expectantly.

With a gulp, I look down to my feet and then to the fence. Its not that terribly high, and I test it out, placing one of my feet in the spaces. It dosen't exactly fit, but using my hands, I grip tightly to the fencing. I pull myself up a bit, slipping slightly here and there, and I take it slow. And when I make it to the top, I realize I'm pretty screwed. Careful to not slip, I think about my choices before pulling myself completly to the top, so I'm sitting, like a cat, on top of a fence. Lovely, now what?

"Careful, Nae!" Emily shouts up to me. I want to bitch back and make a sarcastic comment about how I've been careful, but the way Emily shouted, all caring and cute, certainly with the nickname, makes me blush a bit.

Looking down makes me feel a lot higher than it seemed when I was on the ground. Scooching a little, I jump from the top to the grass below, but unlike Emily, my landing is awful and I end up on my knees.

"Oh, Naoms! Oh no. Oh" Emily cries and laughs.

"What?" I ask her, shaking the dirt off my knees.

"You're wearing stripped knickers!" she shouts and breaks into a loud laugh. I turn around, looking at my backside only to see the rather large rip the fence made. Oh, shit.

"Fuck off, I can see yours too!" I point out, Emily having left her skirt and tights at Freddie's shed. Emily only smirks, causing me to huff and cross my arms.

"Bouncy castle" Emily repeats with childish glee, and before I can say anything, she's pulling me along with her towards it. She jumps on it, landing her butt right on the side, quickly unlacing her boots and chucking them to the ground. I follow, taking my flats off. My skirt follws, because, well, its rubbish now anyways.

Though its a bit hard to see, with the stars, moon and streetlights being the only source of light, its enough to make out a few colours within the purple and blue bouncy castle. Its hard to stay standing when Emily starts jumping around, adding to the mirage of colours. Red against dark blue, she becomes a blue of colour and I almost fall over, before she pulls me up again and forces me to jump dance with her. Its crazy and makes no sense, but I jump along with her, losing myself in the excitement she seems to be giving. She drops my hands and with some force, tries to spin me, but I losing balance and rolling down, knocking her down with me. She lands on top of me, laughing as she falls.

I'm underneath her, staring up at her as she stares down at me, her deep brown eyes, dark with drugs and happy with the excitement of the night. Her hands are on either side of my head, and she slowly lowers her head, until we're practically breathing the same air. Our noses are barely touching and are lips are practically there, and I'm about to move, to place mine on hers, when Emily ubruptly pulls away.

"Oh shit," she whispers. "Fuck, Naoms, get up!" She whispers again, getting up, off me and stumbling out of the bouncy castle. I crawl out behind her, and notice what had stopped us. The owners of the bouncy house itself had turned on some lights, and there are voices coming from within, getting louder and sounding somewhat angry.

Emily dosen't bother with the laces on her boots, she simply grabs the boots, and chucks the left and then the right over the fence. She climbs over it barefoot, and meanwhile I follow, having slipped on my flats.

"Hurry Naoms." She urges me on, giggling a bit, with the excitement of getting caught. Of course, she's over the fence, she's free.

It dosen't help with the added pressure, and the drugs really feel like they are weighing me down, but the fear of getting caught makes me shoot up the fence, though I'm pretty sure I looked like a disabled squirrel and not the graceful cat that Emily is. This time, I don't bother stopping at the top, I simply fling myself over, and land somewhat on my feet. She grabs me by the hand, pulling me into the shadows, and we watch as a middle aged man opens the back door, lighting up the empty yard. He seems to be grumbling to himself, and this makes Emily giggle.

Emily sits down on the pavement, and I sit next to her, offering her some drags of my fag as she ties her boots.

"That was awesome," she sighs, "definitly worth it."

"Worth my skirt?" I huff, turning around to see the forgotten article of clothing abandoned in a stranger's yard, on the other side of the fence. Let it be a gift to the grumbly middle aged man then.

"Well..." she says, seeming to consider it, "I'm not trying to sound like Katie here, but maybe, that skirt deserved it."

"Rude," I say, pretending to sound offended, "I won't share my fags with you then."

I put the fag back in my mouth, grinning at her, but before I can take a drag, she pulls it out of my mouth and puts it into hers, blowing the smoke right into my face.

"Come on, Campbell, the nights hardly over!"

Emily pulls me along with her, through empty streets, and after what seems to be a few hundred turns, she stops running allowing us to walk through the streets.

"Where the fuck are we going?" I ask, after realising we should of made it back to Freddie's a while ago. Emily seems to have some sort of direction planned, but she dosen't seem to want to answer directly.

"Its an adventure, Naoms." She insists, and I realise we're getting farther from Freddie's and closer to mine and Effy's. We've passed a street I recognise as a main road to the university, but we don't stop, simply continue.

Emily stops, her head going up and smiling up at a bright sign. The Dead Cat. I have no clue how we made it here, and it seems rather lively, as loud music is making its way out to us, and the line to get in is just as long as it was yesterday. They all seem to be watching us, in the line. The same confused looks that Effy and I had gotten, I'm getting with Emily. But Emily should fit in with these people. Maybe its just me then. Still holding hands we make our way around the line, but Emily continues past the line. The looks we get are strange and confused as we get farther away from the line, and its only then that I realize that both me and Ems are walking around in our knickers. In the middle of town. I must seriously be high, because I find none of this to bother me at all.

"Where are we going?" I ask, my mind shifting topic, making me feel lost and a bit too high and drunk to understand properly..

"Up the steps, silly," she points to the metal stairs that lead all the way up to the music store I had seen the first night with Effy.

"But its closed," I whimper.

"Nah," Emily responds, waving her hand as if what I said wasn't true. So I follow her up the steps, careful not to trip. She stops in front of the store door, and pulls the sign that says 'McClair Music' towards her. She slowly peels a key that's taped to the back of the sign off. Emily slips the key into the knob, and I'm surprised. How the fuck does Emily know all this? Next we'll be stealing a car or something.

After opening the door, she places the key back, and leads me inside. She fiddles about for a bit, until she finds the light switch.

"Wow," I exclaim when the lights bring everything to life. Its actually pretty clean up here, nothing like the grubby Dead Cat downstairs. Some of the noise from downstairs is coming up, but its faded enough to sound like a strange, disasterous ballad.

The store itself seems to be seperated in two, one dedicated to pop stars, with a giant Lady Gaga poster, accompanyed by all sorts of other pop posters on one wall, and the other, painted black, with crumpled garage band posters.

"Freddie's side," Emily points, "Karen's side."

"Weird," I comment.

"But it works."

"Why are we here, Fitch?" I ask her.

"What's a party without decent music?" she answers.

"Didn't like Cook's choice? Led Zepplin?" I ask her, "Not a fan, then?"

"Nah, Katie and Cook ruin it. They either act like they want to kill each other or shag each other," Emily remarks. "You can't enjoy music if you've got to people going at it."

She left the sentence unfinished, I'm guessing so it could apply to either activity. Grabbing my arm, she wordlessly pulled me over to the vinyl section, and starts looking through them.

"Don't be a lazy bum, help me," she says after a while, noticing I was simply swaying back and forth watching her.

"What am I looking for?" I ask her, flipping through some myself.

"Stuff you like," she awnsers, smiling a cute little half smile at me, "I wanna know what kind of music you listen to."

Oh. Right, I notice Emily already has a few records in her hands, and so paying close attention, I flip through them. Some names I don't recognise at all, but I find the Magical Mystery tour by the Beatles and add it to my small collection. Blondie's Greatest Hits is next, and I realize, I've hardly made it through the 'B' section and Emily is already done, patiently looking through her collection. She's got ten or so vinyls, and she's smiling down fondly at them. Like they mean something incredible to her. Because she is purely passion, if that makes sense, and whatever Emily finds to her liking she commits to. Emily lives to be passionate.

"You done?" Emily asks.

"Um, no." I mumble.

"You've gone through 'A's and 'B's," Emily remarks, "might wanna hurry up a bit there, Naoms."

I've added Cream, Morison Hotel by Doors, The Orient Express and Queen.

Emily leads us to another room, in the back. The room smells of weed, and it seems to be almost comforting. Bean bag chairs filter the ground, and the burgundy walls are bare, unlike the rest of the music store. A few empty boxes and an almost full garbage are in the corner. In the opposite corner is the vinyl player, and Emily places her vinyls down on the table beside it. I place mine by hers, and she picks them up, smiling a bit as she flips through my choices.

"Okay," she mumbles to herself, "we'll start with mine. Buzzcocks maybe? You like politics though? We'll go with the Minutemen."

The decision made, she takes the chosen album and places it on the player. The music itself is interesting, and though not too loud, we can still here the Dead Cat below us.

Before sitting down, Emily pulls out her pack of cigarettes and a bottle of Smirnoff ice, placing it inbetween us.

Neither of us say anything, we simply lie back together, on our neighbouring bean bags, smoking her fags and sharing our drink.


End file.
